John Deduces & Sherlock is proud
by Grrrneyes96
Summary: Maybe Sherlock doesn't mind letting John take the spot light for once. And maybe just maybe Sherlock is just a little aroused my John being smart. Slash (if that wasn't clear :D) Review Might add chapters eventually, for now complete thought
1. John is smart

**_A/N This is AU, some of the things haven't happened and I haven't even seen all the episodes (I do not want to see all of them yet, I will go through them too fast) Some of what I wrote is what I have learned about the show online, what what I knew already and some stuff is totally my own concoction. Please forgive me if there are any inconsistencies. They are all mine. And sadly Sherlock... well he isn't, but good lord I wish he was. But alas, he belongs to John ;)_**

 ** _Happy reading :)_**

* * *

 **Chapter 1. John deduces**

John was pacing the floors at the apartment of 221B Baker Street. It wasn't the first time, nor was it going to be the last time. It was after all Sherlock that had just ran off. And no matter how much he hated not knowing what was going on with the detective, he couldn't be happier that the mad man had by some sort of a miracle come back to him.

The two years without the high functioning sociopath had been the worst of Johns life. That is saying something, considering the older soldier had seen death and destruction for years around him. If not in war then in the hospital. But after those two years he had become very protective of his detective. He didn't want to lose his best friend. He didn't want any more scars decorating the pale skin. And no matter how much Sherlock explained that it wasn't John's fault, he couldn't help but feel guilty. After all the mad man hadn't trusted John enough to let him on the secret sooner. And because of that lack of trust, even if Sherlock insisted it wasn't about trust, John couldn't be to kill the fuckers who dared lay a hand on his Sherlock.

That was another thing. In those two years John realized that how he felt about Sherlock wasn't as "not gay" as he had hoped. And now he had married Mary. And well he wouldn't, if he had known that his Sherlock was alive.

After about five minutes of contemplating, or brooding as Sherlock would have said, there were a lot of stumbling steps and high voices that startled John out of his, state. As he looked at the door he saw Sherlock with a black eye and a cut lip and a very tired looking Mary at a gun point held by Lestarge.

"Sherlock, the hell is going on? Are you okey? Let me get you ice." John started to hassle right away, must be the doctor in him, or something.

"Seriously, your wife is held at gun point and you are worried about precious Sherlock, who is it that you love really?" Mary spat out, surprisingly amused but also very annoyed.

"Yeah well, you aren't the one who is bleeding, and I have a feeling that you aren't held on gun point just because you have been a bit not good. And you should already know who I love. If you didn't you must have been quite blind."

With that John scrambled out of the room to get the ice and came back. He set a cloth on Sherlocks face, so the ice wouldn't burn his skin and set it carefully on the hurt area. No matter how gentle John tried to be he saw as Sherlock winced out of pain. No matter how much of a genius the fucker was, he was still a mere mortal. Not that the dolt would ever admit that out loud.

"So would someone like to let me in on the reason of why my _beloved_ wife is held at gun point? Or should I let Mary on a secret first?"

"What are you on about John?!" Mary spoke with a startled tone.

"Let's see if I actually surprise Sherlock here, and get something quite right with my mere commoner deductions." John looked at Sherlock as if asking for permission to ruin Sherlock's moment on the center stage.

"Be my guest my John, it kind of hurts to talk anyway."

"Did Sherlock just admit that something hurts? Be still my heart, the hell must have frozen over." That definitely earned a glare. But John saw the crazy detective wasn't mad, the twinkle in the eyes and the careful curling of the lip told how much Sherlock actually enjoyed the little banter.

"So you Mary, aren't actually called Mary. You are Martina Moriaty the daughter of the great Moriaty family that held a lot of power and prestige at an older date. You and Jim Moriaty that died the day Sherlock disappeared are actually brother and sister. You both held enormous respect towards your father, who at one time was a lot like Mycroft, all powerful without anyone knowing."

As John tells how he sees things, Sherlock is surprised to have learned something he hadn't known. At the same time Mycroft stepped in the house and nodded at John, not wanting to disturb the story he just silently sat on the side of the table.

"I do not know how exactly the power your father held vanished but either way it did. And he killed himself when he lost all the power, didn't he? Oh, don't bother Mary to ask how I know, I'll let you in on the secret soon enough. "

Sherlock looked at John with pride that didn't go unnoticed by Mycroft. But on top of pride there was love. Sherlock, for once in his life actually loved another human, and Mycroft realized that all the pain and suffering had been for this older soldier. No sacrifice was big enough for the man, as long as John was safe. A part of the secret leader was glad, his brother finding love. But a part was worried of how sentiment would get in the way of Sherlock and his Work. No matter how he wanted Sherlock to be happy he also wanted him to be safe.

"So you and your brother, Jim Moriaty, decided you would take that power from Mycroft back. But instead of attacking Mycroft, who you knew would be up for the war, you thought that Sherlock would be a good victim. Because he was probably the only one you could hurt that would cause pain and distraction for Mycroft. What you hadn't thought about was how the Holmes men do not quite function the same way as the rest of us. "

"Enough John of the chit chat, get to how you figured things out, most I already knew, but how did you figure out that Jim was related to Mary?"

John mumbled something about being an impatient fucker but continued non-the less.

"Well she had a photo of him in her wallet, you know sentiment and all. I had accidentally seen it once and thought I just saw wrong because of the stress and all. But after a while I started seeing sides to Mary I hadn't before. So, I kind of looked through some of her stuff. I found letters between her and Jim that cleared my suspicions. I found out how she actually orchestrated a huge part of your death, or well what she thought was your death. It was later on that she realized it had not actually been you, when she realized Jim was nowhere to be found."

Mary, or well Martina really, seemed to have gotten paler. Sherlock found out a lot of things and they had been accurate, but to be blamed for doing things for someone because of a business deal and to be related to that person were two different things. She looked at Mycroft with a glare, this was all his fault.

"If you had just let my father continue in peace this wouldn't have happened. He did exactly what you do, yet no one judges you and everyone judged him. And the respect he had was over in one night, because you couldn't help but intervene. How do you think it made me feel, Jim feel, when we find our dad hanging from the kitchen lamp? With a note that he had nothing more to live for as _you_ took all from him."

"Martina, what your dad did was support criminal behavior, including drug trade, sex trade and so much more while I try to get rid of it, with the help of my little brother. And it was your father who didn't notice that he had you and Jim. He found the legacy to be more important than his children. And that is something that no respectable man does. Really, I find it sad how much you looked up to your dad, not even realizing that he had left you without any reason. "

Martina even handcuffed tried to attack the most powerful man in London, if not the whole world, and as expected failed miserably. She found herself very fast against the wall of the small apartment with yet another gun pointing to her head.

"Mary Mary Mary, shouldn't you have at least calculated a bit how the situation is, there is a police officer with a gun, and trust me he would shoot you with no second thought and then there is me, an ex soldier with paranoia and trust issues, and on top of all that two high functioning sociopaths that share very deep bond of brotherly love even if they deny it to their very core. Do you honestly thing it was a smart move to do? Hmmm, my _darlin' wifey?_ "

"Piss of. You ruined everything for me and Jim. We would have been able to execute our plan, if your detective wouldn't have been all googly eyed for you. It is disgusting really, how in love both of you are and how well you pretend you aren't. Every time you were with me you probably wanted to just be fucked in the ass, some _man_ you are. Can't even get pleasure from a real woman. It was pain to pretend to be your wife anyway."

John merely raised his brow, never pegging Mary, well Martina, to be homophobic. He saw Sherlock look slightly uncomfortable and only now realized that Sherlock always cared when John denied his gayness or well bi-ness really. It had never been about John being in denial. It was more about protecting himself because he assumed Sherlock would never give a damn either way.

"Really Martina, you should know now that I do not get offended of talk like that. What makes a man real or not real, isn't who he sleeps with or how lunatics like you describe them. What makes a real man is how he sees himself and how he treats others, but then again it is hard to recognize a real man since your _daddy_ and your _brother dear,_ weren't much of an example now where they."

"Do **not** talk about them you swine, you know nothing about them. They were great people. More than you will ever be. I swear to god I will avenge their deaths, one way or another. You just wait. You aren't done with me yet."

Martina had a manic look in her eyes and he facial features looked more of a demon than a human. Her threats weren't really that frightening thought. Considering she had her face against the wall and two guns pointing at her head. But it was kind of humorous for the men in the room to listen to her spew some nonsense. It didn't take long for the men to catch up on everything, and 'Mary' was taken to the police station. For now, it was quiet again.

As everyone was leaving Sherlock and John were left behind, looking at each other, both too nervous to speak up. Something in the room shifted though, and the detective couldn't help but stare at the kissable lips of his brave soldier. If only he could reach out and...

 **To be continued, hope you liked it thus far, please do comment and tell me what you think ^^**

 **xoxo,**

 **GreenEyes**


	2. First kisses and buzz kills

First kisses and buzz kills

If only he could reach out and…. And Sherlock didn't know what. This wasn't a new territory per say. Sherlock had kissed and flirted for a case. He was good at reading people who were attracted to him. But this was new. He never _wanted_ to kiss anyone. He had done it out of a sense of need to figure a case out. Not because of attraction, let alone feelings of care, maybe even love.

John wasn't in a better place either, really. He knew what he wanted, he wanted to kiss the hell out of the mad man in front of him. But he couldn't for the life of him read the other man. Sherlock wouldn't punch him, that he knew. But the words often hurt the soldier far more than a few punches would. John had figured out his feelings not so long ago. He had known the moment Mary, or well _Martina_ turned out to be a fraud that he had never really been in love with her. She was a very inefficient replacement of Sherlock. She worked as being around quite a bit, and that was all there was to it. He wasn't alone and yet, without Sherlock, he always seemed to be lonely.

None the less, he had always told Sherlock that he wasn't gay. And he never had thought of him as gay before. But now, the only one he saw was Sherlock. Who was very much male. And that turned him on. He didn't love Sherlock, despite him being a man, he loved him because he was a man, a very mad one at that. If Sherlock hadn't turned out to be alive, he didn't know what he would have done with Martina, after figuring out her plot. To live in a jail, after pay back for Sherlocks death seemed like a very good alternative. This was so much better though. Even if he would never have Sherlock as _his_ he was still happier than ever.

"Should I make some tea?" John asked, coughing a bit as his voice seemed to have disappeared. What the hell. He wasn't ever that man. The one who got dry throat or butterflies in his stomach. He was a soldier for god's sake.

"John." Sherlock tried to stop the idiot who was so obviously ruining a moment.

"I'll be making it, don't worry, I know how you like it."

"John!"

"Really Sherlock you should eat more, you are so thin as it is." John knew what Sherlock was doing, and no matter how much of soldier he was, he couldn't face it. But as per usual, he really didn't have much of a choice.

"John, you are such an idiot." With that Sherlock grabbed at John, and pressed his lips to the shorter man.

This was new to both men. John always took the control and Sherlock well he just didn't do this. At all. Finally, something snapped in John and he woke up. Grabbing the silky locks, he tugged Sherlock head back. Lips moving to the slender neck. He didn't know what came over him, all he knew, was that Sherlock was _his_ and that mean he had to mark that neck, so that everyone knew. It didn't matter that they weren't teenagers anymore. John stood in the shadows for so many years, without marking the detective as his, so now he had to. Sherlock didn't seem to mind thought, letting out soft huffs and whines he gave John all of the space in the world, to continue to work on the master piece on his neck.

John, took a step back looking at his work. Feeling quite smug he turned to smirk at Sherlock. _His detective, his mad man, all John's_. Before the younger man had a chance to say anything john pulled him back into an embrace, kissing Sherlock deeply, pulling him to the sofa they shared. They tumbled on the sofa and then off the sofa, but neither cared. The floor seemed as good a place as any. For the first-time, in a long time John didn't want to rush this, and making out like teenagers for hours seemed like a great idea. If only Mrs. Hudson would agree, and not ruin the moment.

"Boys what is all that tumbling, oh- Sorry boy, see John I told you, you could stay in Sherlocks room. Anyway, carry on, I will visit my sister or something. Be safe, and remember to wash the floor if you continue at it. I'm not your maid. And I don't like stains on the floors."

With that the door closed, and the two men looked at each other mortified, only to start giggling like on the first case together. The mood might have been killed, but laughing with Sherlock, like they used to, felt almost as good as kissing him.

They had time to continue, and maybe they would choose a bed for it. So that no one had to mop the floors. God forbid there would be any stains.

 **This is it for chapter 2. What do you guys think? Cute? I thought there would be slash faster, but somehow, I didn't want to rush these two. Review please ^^**

 **xoxo**

 **Green Eyes.**


	3. Chapter 3- Hardcore Love

**Chapter 3 - Hardcore Love**

John woke up next to a warm body wondering how he got here. Who was _oh…Sherlock. Hmmm_. God, he smelled amazing.

"John, your thoughts are bothering my sleep."

"Hmmm, you do not even know what I am thinking about, and you never sleep anyway, this is probably the longest you have slept ever in your life."

Sherlock's eyes flew open at the raspy, sleepy and yet somehow turned on voice next to him. Could John really want him, and much as he wanted John?

"You are absolutely right, time to get up, let's go John."

John raised a brow, grabbed at Sherlocks night shirt and pulled the madman back into the bed, on top of John. Only to murmur against Sherlocks lips.

"There is no way in hell you are going to get up now, unless the house will be on fire, but for what I have planned for you, you probably won't get up even if will be on fire, because you will be _way_ too concentrated on the pleasure I will give you. Now I want you to be a good little detective and open that shirt for me, and then I want you to lie on your back, so I can see you all in your glory. Is that clear?"

"Yes, John" Sherlock moaned out. Sherlock was always the one in control. He never gave that up, but with John it felt okay. Right even.

John pulled Sherlock's hair a bit, whispering in his ear. "Yes what, Sherlock?"

"Yes, Captain"

"Hmmmm, such a good detective, now get to work."

There was no way that Sherlock could stop now. Being so turned on and so overwhelmed about the love radiating from John, but seeing the hungry look in the other man's eyes. The buttons were undone and as quickly as possible Sherlock laid down on the bed like a present _just for John._ And that what he was, an amazing beautiful present. One that John would treasure till the end of their lives.

As soon as Sherlock's head hit the pillows he had a Captain on top of him kissing every part he was able to reach. The chest, nipples the biceps the neck. Nipping at the mark he gave the man yesterday. And the moans and whimpers the taller man was giving out. Lord help him, so he didn't just rip their clothes and take the other man. John was always very very keen about fore play. Making his partner pant and moan with want. And Sherlock wasn't going to be any different.

"John, please, please, fu-uck, oh hng, please just take me."

"Not yet Sherlock, patience is a virtue."

"Argghh, one that you know I do _not_ have. John please…"

But John was having none of it, so Sherlock did what he did best. He played _**hella**_ dirty.

"Captain, _pleeease,_ take me. Make me yours I am so hard, and needy, I need your cock in me right now. Please, I have been a good detective haven't I? I am all yours and I need you to mark me. All the way from the inside out."

John froze on top of Sherlock… the words shocking him in the best of ways. No matter how much he would want to he couldn't for the life of him stop from making that request come to life. Sherlock momentarily thought he did something wrong when John didn't move. Only to feel how passionate and desperate his lover was when he attacked, Sherlock with lips and tongue and scratching every part of the lithe body under him.

The clothes were ripped from both men's bodies faster than in a Guinness record, and neither really knew who took who's clothes of. As long as the offending garment were _not_ on their bodies, they didn't care.

"Sherlock oh, fuck you feel amazing. I do not know what long I will last like this. Shit you are so hot and delicious."

"John, john, _john…._ _ **take me."**_

"I will Sherlock just, fuck be patient I will not hurt you, not matter how much I just want to have you around my dick, right the fuck now, I will not risk hurting you. So please fuck, stop moving like that around me. " 

But Sherlock didn't stop. Not because he was bad on purpose, well maybe a bit that as well, but mostly because he couldn't. Johns body felt so perfect on him, and his skin was so so sensitive. That he didn't know how he had survived without his Captain working his magic.

"Sherlock, turn around on your hands and knees, now."

"No, hnnng John I want to see you when you take me."

"Fuck, so hot, you will trust me, you will I just want to prepare you, and it's easier that way."

Trusting his John completely he turned around, presenting himself so prettily, that John almost came from that. From how Sherlock trusted him, and how beautiful he was. Not stopping for long, John licked at Sherlocks hole. That being something, the detective never felt before, he collapsed on the bed, with only his ass up, whining lowly into the pillow.

John continued licking, nipping and fingering the detective for a while before taking the lube and starting to prepare properly. Fingers in, scissoring and nipping or licking occasionally. John didn't do anything for too long, so Sherlock wouldn't get used to the touches, and would all the time be on the edge of what was next.

"John if you do not take me right now, I swear to god I will make myself come without you."

"Tsk tsk tsk, you do realize I would just fuck you anyway, even if you would be sensitive as fuck."

Sherlock moaned at the thought and John couldn't really deny the other man any longer. He slowly got turned Sherlock around, kissed him slowly and pushed in. Until he was as deep as possible. Nothing ever felt that good, that perfect. And even thought John first thought this was going to be fast and rough. It wasn't. It was deep and satisfying. Both men were looking at each other as if they saw God for the first time in their lives. It was so perfect and lovely, that they would never forget this moment.

John slowly pushed himself in and Sherlock, welcomed his girth with a low moan every time.

They whimpered and whispered each other's names until neither could hold any longer. John grabbed Sherlocks cock and slowly rubbed it up and down, with his thrust and after a short moment both had the most satisfying, longest orgasms of their lives. Not minding the mess, they just wrapped around each other and fell asleep. No words were needed. The love so clear, it was probably visible in the room.

 **So, this story totally didn't go as planned. I thought there would be a hot hardcore fucking, but this is what it came to. Maybe I will add a chapter or two where they will have time for something raunchier what do you guys think?**


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